The Hollows Series Books 1-4. Kim Harrison

Fear paralyzed me. “Belay that,” he said softly.

      “Yes, Sa’han.” The speaker went dead with a soft pop.

      I stared at Trent, feeling as if I was going to burst.

      “Ms. Morgan?” Trent said, inclining his head cordially, and I shivered. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure.” Still he smiled, inching forward. I bared my teeth and chittered. His hand drew back and he frowned. “Come out of there. You have something that belongs to me.”

      I felt the presence of the disc beside me. Being caught, I went from successful thief to village idiot in a heartbeat. How could I have thought I could get away with it? Ivy was right.

      “Come along, Ms. Morgan,” he said, reaching under the desk.

      I sprang into the empty spaces behind the drawers, trying to escape. Trent reached up after me. I squeaked as a tight grip fastened on my tail. My nails grated as he pulled. Terrified, I twisted, sinking my teeth into the fatty part of his hand.

      “You canicula!” he shouted, pulling me out in a helpless scrabbling. The world spun as he rose to his feet. Violently shaking his hand, he smacked me into the desk. Stars exploded into existence, seeming to go with the dusky cinnamon taste of his blood. The pain in my head loosened my jaws, and I spun from my tail as he held me.

      “Let her go!” I heard Jenks cry.

      The world gyrated in quick swings. “You brought your bug,” Trent said calmly, slamming the flat of his hand against a panel on his desk. A faint smell of ether tickled my nose.

      “Get out, Jenks!” I squeaked, recognizing the smell of sticky web.

      Jonathan flung open the door. He stood in the threshold, his eyes wide. “Sa’han!”

      “Shut the door!” Trent shouted.

      I twisted frantically to escape. Jenks darted out just as my teeth closed upon Trent’s thumb again. “Damn you, witch!” Trent shouted, swinging me into the wall. Stars exploded anew, dying to black embers. The embers grew, and I watched, numb, as they slowly overtook my sight until there was nothing else. I was warm, and I couldn’t move.

      I was dying.

      I had to be.

       Nineteen

      “So, Ms. Sara Jane, the split schedule isn’t an issue for you?”

      “No sir. I don’t mind working until seven if I have the afternoon for errands and such.”

      “I appreciate your flexibility. Afternoons are for contemplation. My best work is done in the morning and evening. I keep only a small staff after five, and I find the lack of distractions helps me concentrate.”

      The sound of Trent’s smooth, public persona slipped into my awareness, jarring me awake. I opened my eyes, not understanding why everything was glaringly white and gray. Then I remembered. I was a mink. But I was alive. Barely.

      The alternating high and low voices of Trent and Sara Jane’s interview continued as I shakily got to my feet to find I was in a cage. My stomach tightened at a wave of nausea. I sank down, struggling not to vomit. “I am so wasted,” I whispered as Trent flicked glances at me over his wire-rim glasses as he talked with a trim young woman in a pale interview suit.

      My head hurt. If I didn’t have a concussion, it was close. My right shoulder where I had hit his desk was sore, and it hurt to breathe. I tucked my front paw close and tried not to move. Staring at Trent, I tried to figure things out. Jenks was nowhere. That’s right, I remembered in relief. He had made it out. He would have gone home to Ivy. Not that they could do anything for me.

      My cage held a bottle of water, a bowl of pellets, a ferret hut large enough to curl up in, and an exercise wheel. Like I would ever use it, I thought bitterly.

      I was sitting on a table at the back of Trent’s office. According to the fake sunlight from the window, it was only a few hours after sunrise. Too early for me. And though it stuck in my craw, I was going to slink into that hut and go to sleep. I didn’t care what Trent thought.

      Taking a deep breath, I stood. “Ow! Ow!” I squeaked, wincing.

      “Oh, you have a pet ferret,” Sara Jane exclaimed softly.

      I shut my eyes in misery. I wasn’t a pet ferret; I was a pet mink. Get it straight, lady.

      I heard Trent rise from behind his desk and felt, more than saw, both of them come close. Apparently the interview was over. Time to ogle the pet mink. The light was eclipsed, and I opened my eyes. They stood above me, staring.

      Sara Jane looked professional in her classy interview dress, her long, fair hair falling midway to her elbows in a simple, sparse cut. The petite woman was cute as a button, and I imagined most people didn’t take her seriously with her upturned nose, her high little-girl voice, and her short stature. But I could tell from the intelligent look in her wide-set eyes that she was used to working in a man’s world and knew how to get things done. I imagined that if someone misjudged her, she wasn’t opposed to using it to her advantage.

      The woman’s perfume was strong, and I sneezed, clenching in pain.

      “This is—Angel,” Trent said. “She’s a mink.” His sarcasm was subtle but loud in my ears. His left hand massaged his right. It was bandaged. Three cheers for the mink, I thought.

      “She looks ill.” Sara Jane’s carefully polished fingernails were worn to almost the quick, and her hands looked unusually strong, almost like a laborer’s.

      “You don’t mind rodents, Sara Jane?”

      She straightened, and I shut my eyes as the light fell upon them. “I despise them, Mr. Kalamack. I hale from a farm. Vermin are killed on sight. But I’m not about to lose a potential position because of an animal.” She took a slow breath. “I need this job. My entire family scrimped to put me through school, to get me out of the fields. I have to pay them back. I have a younger sister. She’s too smart to spend her life digging sugar beets. She wants to be a witch, to get her degree. I can’t help her unless I get a good job. I need this job. Please, Mr. Kalamack. I know I don’t have the experience, but I’m smart and I know how to work hard.”

      I cracked an eyelid. Trent’s face was serious in thought. His fair hair and complexion stood out sharply against his dark business suit, and he and Sara Jane made a handsome couple, though she was rather short beside him. “Nicely said, Sara Jane,” he said, smiling warmly. “I appreciate honesty above all in my employees. When can you start?”

      “Immediately,” she said, her voice quavering. I felt ill. Poor woman.

      “Wonderful.” His gray voice sounded genuinely pleased. “Jon has a few papers for you to sign. He will walk you through your responsibilities, shadow you for your first week. Go to him with any questions. He’s been with me for years and knows me better than I know myself.”

      “Thank you, Mr. Kalamack,” she said, her narrow shoulders raised in excitement.

      “My pleasure.” Trent took her elbow and walked her to the door. He touched her, I thought. Why hadn’t he touched me? Scared I might figure out what he was, maybe?

      “Do you have a place to stay yet?” he was asking. “Be sure to ask Jon about the off-site housing we have available for employees.”

      “Thank you, Mr. Kalamack. No, I don’t have an apartment yet.”

      “Fine. Take what time you need to get settled. If you like, we can arrange for a portion of your compensation to be put in a trust fund for your sister, pretax.”

      “Yes, please.” The relief in Sara Jane’s voice was obvious, even from the hall. She was caught. Trent was a god to her, a prince rescuing her and her family. He could do no wrong.

      My